Monday, June 9, 2014

Such a Sunny Day

Such a Sunny Day

It wasn't
really meant to go on for long. The duration is something like the
length of side A of your favorite 45. It cannot last longer than the
instant it takes the sun to travel between one blanket of clouds to
the next. One small instant.

In that
instant, there were the winks and blinks of those who were cut down
too soon in life, accidents, murder and suicide. Perhaps, worse
still, cut down by sickness and cancer and freakishly rare viruses.

Hey, hey,
flip the record.

The brevity
of it is severe. It is. Here it was, some time back, shortly after
the war when you wandered into the VFW with an old vet. By the time
you walked back out again, there were no other vets older than you.

Your house
is your house, but you do not recognize it. It's filled with a
lifetime of living: furniture, china, empty beer cans. There are
distantly familiar photos of family members who you spawn, your
progeny who have grown from little league to college degrees and
homes of their own.

What the
hell happened here. On the way to Iraq, the Vietnam guys seemed so
fucking old. When you were on your way to Vietnam there were the old
soldiers who seemed ancient and their Great War was diminished to
WWI. And on the way to fight the Germans, either time, there were
those Spanish-American War vets.

On the
corner by the college, the pigeons pooled around the upset trashcan.
The people milled around looking a bit like the pigeons. It was not
an easy day. It was not an easy day because no day is particularly
easy. What do these people know about it? What do these people know
about anything?

Two deep
breaths later, exhaust of cigarette tar and stale beer, the moment of
forgiveness came. It was not my fault that in my youth I opened fire
upon raghead-gook-jerry-spic-mother-fuckers. It was not my fault that
the ghosts hung on my fading uniform during the lifetime of rain. It
was not my fault that I made it through the war alive and learned to
love the people I fought. It was not my fault. I joined the cause
before I could vote.

It only
takes one instant on a sunny autumn day, by the college, all the
leaves having fallen from the trees in the night, for this
realization to happen.

Eventually,
everything dies. Eventually, every scoundrel will confess his
trespasses and beg for forgiveness. The true scoundrel will ask for
redemption from God. God does not need to grant forgiveness.

For every
soldier who fell, and all of those who did not become engendered,
these are the ones we need to ask for forgiveness.

For every
soldier who did not fall and who never recovered, everyone should
asked them for forgiveness and beg mercy from all who they
engendered.

It's easier
to do this on a sunny day when suddenly you've waken up so much
older.

Hey, hey,
flip the record.

Hopefully
there is a nicer song on the other side. Some song about love or the
love of love. Love songs seem more universal than love itself.